


Andante, andante

by LittleLuciernagaSide (littleLuciernaga)



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleLuciernaga/pseuds/LittleLuciernagaSide
Summary: Tsumugi Aoba's uninteresting life consists of retail and home.That is, until a splash of red colors his world.(Update: now reads along with some lovely art!)
Relationships: Aoba Tsumugi/Sakasaki Natsume
Comments: 5
Kudos: 86





	Andante, andante

**Author's Note:**

> Andante:
> 
> adverb  
> (especially as a direction) at a moderately slow tempo.

It’s a good thing Tsumugi Aoba is both a morning person and a complete pushover.

If not, some poor teen down on their luck would probably be stuck with the opening shift at his current job; a local coffee shop that doubled as a bakery in an older part of the city, away from the current big brands and most train stations--therefore, a quaint, boring and cheap ghost-town that mostly served the surrounding neighborhood, just like he likes it. 

His shift starts at six am sharp in the cashier, and though it ends at two, he always finds himself doing overtime to let his younger coworkers take their time with arrival. He knows he’s being taken advantage of, for sure, but it’s not like he minds or has anything better to do with the extra time. All is good as long as he gets to shop for dinner and get home _eventually_ , whenever that is.

And it’s not like he has anyone but an occasional coworker manning the baking to share that extra time with, anyway. It’s just the way things have been for a long time.

That is, until one particular customer starts coming in:

Sharply and impeccably dressed, red-haired and with the biggest case of--as coworkers and customers alike would probably say-- a resting bitch face, if Tsumugi had ever seen one. A particularly handsome one, at that.

During one of those sunny spring mornings of new beginnings, the redhead walks into the store with disinterest, orders a strong black coffee to go, thanks his service and leaves. He does the same the next day, and the following, and the following.

And as the days turn into weeks that come and go, the easily distracted and unobservant Tsumugi slowly becomes aware of the strangely styled red hair of his new favorite customer, the way it pops in the background of the muted colors of the establishment and the precision of his visits.

Every now and then, Tsumugi likes to imagine what he may be up to before and after getting his coffee. His first guess is that he’s a college student, but he sometimes entertains the idea of other, more outlandish jobs like modeling or being a young and accomplished artist. Anything seems to suit him, and the thoughts of an imaginary life so unlike his own help him pass his lonely shifts a lot better--and more often than he’d like to admit.

It’s probably safe to assume after an entire month of no back and forth save the formalities for service that Tsumugi has gotten hooked on the pretty redhead, but who wouldn’t with so little to do and such a stand-out in a routine as predictable as his?

...Besides, there’s nothing he can do about his interest but stare and imagine from afar, as usual.

-

“Ah, there you go again…”

Tsumugi nearly jumps when he’s addressed for the first time in the better part of a very slow hour with no customers in sight. He turns, doe-eyed, to his coworker.

“There I go with what, Hibiki-kun?”

The cerulean-haired boy smiles knowingly. Wataru doesn’t spend all that much time with Tsumugi with how busy he gets with the bakery at the backside of the store, but whenever they do talk, it always seems to be a chance to tease or fluster him. He hums loudly at Tsumugi.

“I’ve realized you’re always looking at the clock around this time. Could it be you’re expecting something?”

“Um--” Tsumugi looks to the side. “I don’t think…”

“Or…” He gasps. “What about _someone_ , hm?”

There’s the kicker. With darkened cheeks, Tsumugi laughs nervously at the accusation, unsure how to shake it off.

“No, I… that’s silly.” He manages, a sheepish hand rubbing at his neck. “I didn’t even realize I was looking at the time, honestly.”

“Maybe it’s more of a subconscious choice?” Wataru offers, but his thought is interrupted by the soft chime of the opening door. “Ah, welcome~!”

And to Tsumugi’s--luck? Misfortune? The one coming in is none other than the redheaded boy, right on time for his coffee. Only this time, instead of hiding behind his phone or the coolness of his indifferent expression, he’s wide-eyed at the different worker greeting him.

 _“Niisan?”_ He says, facing Wataru. His voice, despite his surprise, is still as deep and boyish as the grouchiness that Tsumugi is used to for his usual order.

Then he does something Tsumugi had yet to see him do in his time working--he _smiles._

“Oh, Natsume!” Wataru exclaims, nearly jumping off the counter to properly greet his friend. “I never thought I’d actually get to see you around here!”

“Same here,” The boy--Natsume-- walks up to the counter, so elated to see a familiar face it’s almost like he doesn’t notice the dumbfounded Tsumugi staring his way. “I was starting to think you’d given me a wrong schedule or workplace when you said you worked _here_.”

“Noo, I’m so sorry, it's right here! I’m just usually really busy around this time!”

“I can see that now, I’ve been coming over for at _least_ a month now.”

Around a month and two weeks, Tsumugi thinks. He immediately wants to pinch himself for prying into the conversation, even if just in his head, and for counting the days as carefully he has. With nowhere to go to try to ignore them, he nervously opens the cashier and starts counting money in a very pathetic attempt to seem busy. Thankfully, Wataru is benevolent enough not to expose him, despite noticing. He laughs and leans over the counter to keep talking to his friend, careful not to powder flour over it.

“All to see me? You shouldn’t have.”

“I mean… in part it was that, in the other the coffee here is actually _good_.” Natsume huffs, annoyed. “I can’t stand the convenience brand and I really don’t have time to brew it like I like it at home.”

“That’s thanks to my friend here,” Wataru says, placing his hand on Tsumugi’s shoulder so suddenly and so casually Tsumugi can only yelp quietly. “I help make the sweets and he the coffee, isn’t that nice?”

Natsume blinks at Tsumugi, and though Tsumugi is trying his absolute best to pretend he doesn’t exist right then, he can feel himself very firmly stared at through the lens of an incredibly pretty pair of golden eyes.

Natsume raises an eyebrow, judging, and clears his throat.

“ _Excuse me._ ” He says, so sharply Tsumugi almost feels himself yelping again. He miraculously doesn’t, only managing a nervous and polite smile as he finally faces him.

“Y-Yes, what can I do for you?”

Natsume seems to hesitate for a moment before simply crossing his arms. 

“...I believe I haven't made my order." He says. "Same as _usual,_ please.”

For a moment, Tsumugi just blinks at him, wondering when they’ve gotten this kind of code between them; he even considers asking what 'the usual’ is, but upon giving it just the fraction of a thought, it’s impossible not to know at this point. And with Natsume looking like he expects him to, there’s no time for stalling. He quickly nods along, almost like he’s being timed for it.

“R-Right!”

Wataru can’t help laughing at the stiffness of it all, and though Natsum looks like the kind of person to be very careful not to show much emotion or movement besides his firm posture, he does seem fairly impressed with Tsumugi’s willingness to get to the order without even asking for details. Not that Tsumugi notices in the midst of preparing everything, anyway.

“Tsumugi,” Wataru cooly calls him. “Give me the coffee when you’re done so I can bag it up with a slice of cake to go.”

“Niisan, you don’t _have_ to.” Natsume mumbles, his cheeks the slightest bit reddened at the offer. “I’ll wait for lunch to eat.”

“Shush, consider it a gift for being such a loyal customer.” Wataru says, already picking—from one of the nicer cakes, too. Tsumugi finds it appropriate to simply give him the coffee without question, as to not ruin the nice gesture. Knowing Wataru, he’d pay for it later anyway.

With that, Wataru writes Natsume’s name on the cup with a marker, bags up the order and winks at his friend.

“That’ll be all, right?”

Natsume squints, looking like he has more to say. Instead, he sighs as he takes the bag from Wataru and leaves his usual pay up in the counter.

“Yeah, and just in time. I should actually get going _now._ ”

“It was a pleasure getting to see you!” Wataru tells him, cheery. “I’ll try to come out around this time to catch you more often, how does that sound?”

“You _better._ ” Natsume smiles once more at Wataru as they wrap up their conversation, but when he turns to Tsumugi, his face is instantly fixed back into neutrality--it’s almost a glare, really, and it makes Tsumugi’s shoulders tense up, though he’s strangely unable to break eye contact. After one awkward moment, Natsume only nods his head once, a polite and wordless gratitude that leaves Tsumugi staring, head turning and following him all the way to the side’s window until the redhead is out of sight.

Tsumugi is so stunned at the fact that his interaction has gone so different than usual that he doesn’t even notice Wataru laughing into his hand until another customer opens the door. The soft chime of the door surprises him enough to drop an empty plastic cup he fiddled with in his poor attempts at blending in the background.

\--

Tsumugi’s shift that day ends with an overwhelming amount of teasing on Wataru’s part. Or at least more than he already teased over other matters, anyway. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t understand where his coworker’s amusement came from; even he, in his slowness and awkwardness, can tell his behavior towards Natsume didn’t match up with his usual easy-going nature around other customers, regular or not, but he can’t still figure out for the life of him _why_.

(Or he probably did somewhere in the corner of his mind, but it’s always been easier not to think too deeply about anything regarding pretty boys, sharp eyes and the effects they can have him.) 

The more embarrassing events of the day are mostly wiped from Tsumugi’s immediate thoughts as his little routine moves the way it always has; he walks all the way to the nearest train station, passes by the convenience store on the way home, cleans his small apartment and lays down to read his newest novel until the sun gets low. By the twentieth time he flips a page, nothing of note should happen.

Except now it does, when his phone buzzes with a new message notification. 

Tsumugi doesn’t actually find it strange at first; it was probably an ad from some company he’d recently felt bad and taken a survey from or his mother needed help remembering a password to some device. Or, most unlikely scenario, Wataru had forgotten something at work. 

None of his options prepares him for the unknown contact that had actually reached out to him;

_‘Is this the barista from the Maison Bleue Cafe?’_

Tsumugi blinks, dumbfounded at the message, feeling his heart racing at the specificity and bluntness of it all. A dozen terrible scenarios come to mind at once when he tries figuring out who this could be or what they could want from him, and right as his brain starts conjuring up crude images of the worst cases, the mystery sender elaborates with another message:

_‘The one working with Wataru-niisan.’_

...Oh?

Though that should’ve probably calmed his heartbeat down, Tsumugi feels a lot more anxious and embarrassed-- it was no mistake who this person was.

He hurriedly types a reply, fingers trembling so bad he nearly misspells every single word in his sentence. Thank God and everything else for autocorrect. 

_‘Right, that’s me. Hello!_

_And if I’m not mistaken you visited today and talked with Hibiki-kun, right?_

_Natsume-kun, was it?’_

The second he sends it, he feels like deleting the message; is it weird that the name stuck with him so well? In his defense, he’d never actually heard a surname from Wataru, but--

He’s typing!

_‘Huh. You’re not on first name terms with niisan yet you are with me?’_

Stupid Tsumugi, stupid Tsumugi! Of course he’d notice that!

A terrified Tsumugi begins, deletes and starts over an explanation for himself, but before he can get anything coherent out, Natsume beats him to the punch once more.

_‘I suppose that allows me to do the same for you.’_

...Huh?

This time, Tsumugi is able to reply quickly.

_‘What do you mean?’_

About a minute later, Natsume replies.

_‘Your name, of course. That’s what you wanted when you gave me this number, wasn’t it? To properly introduce yourself?’_

As if Tsumugi wasn’t confused enough, this downright stupefies him. He wasn’t really the type to hand a phone number out, and much less to someone he had such little intention of ever talking to somewhere other than his daydreams. He’s about to ask how on Earth his number could’ve gotten to Natsume when he remembers, if briefly, how one of the only people who _do_ have his contact information had made sure to be the one specifically handing coffee over to Natsume, and how he’d written on the bag with a marker right after.

_Oh._

Tsumugi doesn’t even need to see his reflection on his phone’s screen to know how red he is with this situation. He sighs down at the conversation, somehow feeling even smaller and stupider than usual. Wataru was certainly one for teasing, but a prank like this... 

_‘Oh, um… Listen, I’m really sorry, but I didn’t give you my number._

_Hibiki-kun must’ve, when he signed your order earlier.’_

Though Tsumugi is merely clearing up a misunderstanding, something about the way he words it makes him feel bad; almost like he’s rejecting someone. The thought is almost funny, really--to reject someone, they must be interested in you, right? And for someone like Natsume to feel that way seems…

_‘Oh.’_

Tsumugi feels his chest tighten at the one-word reply. Was Natsume disappointed?

Then Natsume’s writing something again, and Tsumugi can’t help but feel...strangely anxious to know what he has on mind. The new notification actually takes a couple of minutes to pop up, as if Natsume also rewrote it several times before sending.

_‘I guess this means this conversation was a big waste of time, then?’_

Probably, but to word it like that… 

Natsume sends another message.

_‘Don’t worry, I’ll stop bothering you now.’_

That should’ve been it, and in any other circumstance, Tsumugi would probably let the conversation die with such a blunt apology. However, something inside him doesn’t quite let him leave the exchange with Natsume so incomplete. He’s scared and has no idea how to properly text without the formality he has with coworkers, classmates and family, but something makes him want to try to at least keep things going for a little longer.

He gulps before typing up a reply.

_‘No, don’t worry! You don’t have to._

_I don’t think this has to be a waste._

_As long as you don’t really feel it is, anyway?’_

Natsume doesn’t reply, and on an impulse, Tsumugi adds another message. 

_‘I’m Tsumugi, by the way._

_Aoba Tsumugi, if it helps._ (´• ω •`)ﾉ _’_

...Maybe the kaomoji was pushing it, but if anything, Tsumugi wanted to seem friendly.

Which seemed to work.

_‘...Mojakko’_

_‘..............Huh?’_

_‘That’s more fitting for you.’_

Tsumugi blinks down at his phone--is he seriously bullying him after asking for his name?

It’s hard to truly feel offended, though. Something about the name rings a lot sillier than it does hurtful, and Tsumugi actually lets out a real chuckle at this.

_‘Eh, but I just told you my full name!!_ ( ; ω ; ) _’_

_‘You took too long to tell me. I already added your contact as that.’_

Was that a roundabout invitation for Tsumugi to do the same…?

_‘Oh. Okay, so if it means a nickname is allowed…_

_How about you be ~*Natsume-chan*~_ ( ´ ▽ ` ) _Wouldn’t that be cute?’_

‘ d͆i͉̯̻̎ͅe̮̞̿͑̏̓̽̑̾.̱͉̠̈ͪ ‘

Tsumugi would be lying if the garbled, horrible text and how quickly Natsume typed it didn’t scare him at least a little.

Regardless of that, the banter is...actually kind ofnice, if strange. He doesn’t have this type of dynamic with anyone; going through it, even if only by text, is weirdly refreshing. He laughs once more.

_‘Okay, okay! Just Natsume-kun, then?’_

_‘That’s acceptable.’_

_‘Alright, I added you too!’_

_‘Okay.’_

It’s the last thing Natsume sends, and strangely enough, it feels like it’s enough for now.

Tsumugi lays on his back as he scrolls through the conversation; it would probably seem remarkably short for anyone who actually texts on a daily basis, but to him...it’s kind of an accomplishment, honestly. A new contact isn’t the kind of thing he’s had an easy time making since school and group projects stopped being a regular part of his life, after all.

The book he was reading stays unattended until it’s time to make dinner. All that attention goes to the roof instead, hands holding on tight to his phone over his chest. A smile creeps into his face, giddy and satisfied.

Even if this was to end up a one-time exchange as many he’d had with people he admired from afar, Tsumugi was sure to cherish it for as long as he could.

-

It didn’t end up a one-time exchange.

Before Tsumugi knew it, he had a pen-pal--sort of.

Though Natsume’s visits to the cafe continued as usual and they wouldn’t really talk or address each other outside the formalities of a barista and a customer (much to Wataru’s disappointment), Tsumugi would receive texts between and after work every once in a while:

_‘Today’s coffee felt weaker than usual.’_

_‘Your glasses need some cleaning.’_

_‘The tag in your sweater was showing today.’_

They were always little observations, nags and complaints. One would probably be annoyed to only be reached by this type of approach, but Tsumugi found a certain endearment in it; and an appreciation for a different conversation every time instead of the tiredness of polite greetings he could have with anyone else.

Something about Natsume’s critique, though pesky and unnecessary, rang genuine. And it made it easy not only for Tsumugi to reply to each and every one of them, but to begin sending his own messages whenever he could:

_‘Today rained, did you have an umbrella with you?_ ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ _'_

_‘Look at this, it reminded me of you!_ ( ´ ω ` )'

_‘Someone came in to the cafe with a dog today. Are you a dog person or a cat person, Natsume-kun?_ (^◔ᴥ◔^)'

He didn’t have the heart to start conversations the way Natsume did, but the least he could do was open them up with the things he _really_ wanted to know; not that the usual ‘how are you’ didn’t apply, but it always managed to slip in later anyways. Things go like that for a few months where, little by little, Tsumugi finds out through the texts the smallest details that make Natsume tick.

And one day, while Tsumugi works, he gets a different kind of message.

-

_‘When does your shift end?’_

Not a critique or an observation, for once; and somehow, one of the few things he hadn’t already told Natsume before. 

He’d usually take his time to answer, but Tsumugi feels a certain urgency--perhaps even expectation-- when it comes to this particular message. He waits until the current customer and Wataru are out of sight to reply. 

_‘I get out in thirty. Why?’_

The conversation dies there, and Tsumugi is left with a weak heartbeat until 2:00pm comes around. He has time to panic and unwind over the meaning of the question in the meantime, and he even thinks he’s safe when he’s out of the shop and nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

He soon finds out he isn’t, as a particular redhead is waiting outside, his back pressed to the wall of the establishment and his arms crossed in stubborn neutrality. 

Tsumugi is speechless for a moment, wide-eyed. Natsume only rolls his eyes when he realizes he’s been spotted.

“You said thirty minutes,” He says, looking sideways. “It’s been almost _forty._ ”

\--

  
  


The same way Tsumugi gains a pen-pal is the way he gains a lover; slowly, unexpectedly, vaguely, yet all at once.

After Natsume had taken it upon himself to walk Tsumugi to the train and then home after most of his shifts, the air between them was clear and refreshing. It was somehow easy to pick up the moods of their texting in real life, despite Tsumugi’s initial nerves and feeling so tongue-tied walking next to someone who held himself so high on the way to the station. There was a certain _something_ about Natsume that made everything easier on Tsumugi regardless of his ridiculously high expectations and standards towards everything and his attention to detail; a bewitching little thing that pushed and pulled at Tsumugi enough to let him do things he never knew he could.

It became clearer than ever when one day, on complete and thoughtless impulse, he held Natsume’s hand during one of their walks, and Natsume didn’t pull back or complained about it.

It then becomes good--no, wonderful, even, when another day, weeks later, Tsumugi finds himself face to face with Natsume in front of his apartment’s door.

It’s cold outside by this time of year and Natsume’s nose is as red as his hair. it’s even more apparent with the porcelain-like paleness of his skin; Tsumugi is about to point out as much, amused, until he notices stray strings of white lost in the frame of Natsume’s face.

By now, he’s grown so used to noticing this kind of detail in himself thanks to the daily reminders of mean texts that he knows Natsume wouldn’t stand for it.

So he moves, unprompted, to catch and tuck his hair behind delicate and pierced ears. 

And in what feels like the longest moment of silent, unmoving and unbroken staring between framed olive eyes and unblinking gold, after the subtlest breath of hesitation, Natsume needs only the slight push of his tip-toes to cut the minimal distance between them.

As usual, it is without any sort of verbal agreement and with a snail’s pace that their relationship moves on; the key remains in their actions and the questions that are important enough to make it to the surface--and of course, of those close and brave enough to ask.

(Wataru demands eternal gratitude the very second he weasels the information out of them both.) 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so so so much to Jordie ( @disgustingcake in twitter) for the art!!!! ;___; please go visit and look at all the lovely work!!!!


End file.
